Saturday, 21 November 2015

Sending Oneself to Coventry...

On Being Quiet...


Today I'm flying low, and I'm
not saying a word.

I'm letting all of the voodoos of ambition

The world goes on as it must,
the bees in the garden rumbling a little,

the fish leaping, the gnats getting eaten
And so forth.

But I'm taking the day off.
Quiet as a feather

I hardly move though really I'm travelling
a terrific distance

Stillness. One of the doors
into the temple

Mary Oliver


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